


Hymn for the Damned

by snarkymonkey



Category: The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Bit of cat and mouse and then some booty bumping, Conspiracy ish, Multi, Murder Mystery, Mystery
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-01
Updated: 2018-10-07
Packaged: 2019-07-21 00:01:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,736
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16148330
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/snarkymonkey/pseuds/snarkymonkey
Summary: Bard Bowman of Dale has had a successful job as a crime reporter and part time mystery writer.  When research into his latest book regarding the disappearance and assumed death of Agent Oropher of Arda Federal turns up more questions than answers, he decides to head undercover to find out more.  This puts him squarely in the sights of the Master, the man who knows far more about what skeletons are in which closets, and a very sinister and violent shadow that is slowly reducing the Master's employees, one rifle shot at a time.Bard is certain Oropher's death and this rampage are linked but time is running out and if the Master doesn't kill him, the Master's elven assassin just might.





	1. Chapter 1

     “And, you’re risking this why?”  Thorin sat back and frowned. “I can’t condone this.”

    Bard chuckled.  “Nor can you prevent it.”  He tapped the file he’d left on Thorin’s desk.  “I’m certain he’s connected. He was the last one to see Agent Oropher.  I know Federal reviewed and cleared him but I think I can get in close enough to prove or disprove that.”

    Thorin’s frown deepened.  “In the end, you’re still a civilian, Bard.”  He stroked his beard. “I should lock you up for even suggesting it.”

    “Or, you could conveniently forget I stopped by tonight.”

   The frown flashed into a glare.  “Don’t get smart with me.” He drummed his fingers again.  “If it gets out I let a crime reporter conduct his own damn investigation into a long-dead case, it’s my badge.”  He leaned back. “I don’t like you that much, Bard.”

    “Now that I know to be a lie.”  He reached for the file and stopped at Thorin’s upraised hand.

    “ _If_ I were to allow this, I _might_ expect updates.”  He slid the file into the topmost drawer of his desk.  “These updates had best be every third night from a specific phone number.”  He stood up then and moved to a locked cabinet at the back of his office. He pulled out a small oaken box and unlocked that to produce a sim card.  He wagged it toward Bard. “So. Those _updates_ had best be marked by _this_ card.”

    Bard opened his hand as Thorin crossed to his side.  The little metal card plopped into his palm. He tucked it into his breast pocket and sat back.  “ _If_ I needed to send updates, I’d be _certain_ to use this card.”

   Thorin set the box back in the drawer and locked the cabinet.  “And here I thought _Fili_ was the hot headed one.”

   Bard grinned as he stood up, grabbing his jacket and slipping it on.  “Oh, thankfully, Sigrid doesn’t take after me.” He paused. “Well, much.”  He held out his hand to Thorin.

   The dwarf shook his head.  “You were never here.”

    “Right.”  He turned without another word and left Thorin’s office.  He held himself together until he made it to his car where he promptly gasped for air, covering his face with his hands.  He rubbed his eyes and swore.

    He realized that part of him had fully expected to cave to Chief Thorin’s warnings.  Bard wasn’t a police officer. He could handle himself well enough given his time in the Rangers but he still only had a desk job.  He didn’t know the first thing about undercover investigations. It was all a very deadly risk and he knew it.

    But he also knew he _needed_ to.  Something was very wrong.  He’d read all that he could get his hands on in regards to the Oropher case - what was common knowledge and what little he could find that wasn’t - and nothing made sense.  Oropher simply vanished from Arda. There had been some issues with the agent’s son as well but he’d run into far more roadblocks with that elf’s history so he’d left it for another time.  Doubtful it would explain anything about the elder’s disappearance.

    “I hope this works,” he muttered.  He always had a knack for thinking on his feet but even this was worrying him.  He’d only intended to write a true crime novel on the mysterious disappearance of Federal’s celebrated agent, Oropher.  But the broken trails and glaring blank spots in the timeline had roused his curiosity.

    He _knew_ the Master was involved.  But the man surrounded himself with a score and then some of cutthroats and tight security.  Simply walking into the man’s office and sifting through papers was out of the question. The prep work he’d done had shown near military level security and defenses.  More than a night vision camera and a set of burglar’s tools were needed here. By calling in a series of favors, he’d managed to secure a job as a delivery driver for the Master’s personal tasks.  It was a start and hopefully would get him close enough. If he could appear unobtrusive, he might be able to find information regarding the dead elf.

    He checked his watch and winced.  Nearly ten at night and he still had one more stop to make before he started his fraud in the morning.

    _This_ one he dreaded more than meeting with Thorin.

 

~~*~~

 

    “Are you out of your bloody damn mind?!”

    Bard rubbed the back of his head and avoided the flashing eyes of the elf in front of him.  Honestly, he'd expected Haldir to start throwing knives at him.  This was certainly a better response.

    “Stop that right now; you are far from innocent.”  Haldir slammed the the kitchen cabinet door open, yanking out a bottle of whiskey.  “Bloody humans. Bloody stupid humans and their bloody stupid ideas.” He snatched a short glass and splashed booze into it, glaring at Bard.

   “This is bloody stupid,” he repeated.

   “You know he’s involved.”

   Haldir’s nostrils flared.  “Everyone with _eyes_ knows he’s involved.  He’s also deeply entrenched in Sauron’s little band of miscreants so no one has been able to produce anything beyond rumors.”  He shot back the liquid and hissed. “Everyone knows about the Oropherion family and its . . . unfortunate history.” He poured another shot, paused, then grabbed a second glass and thrust it toward Bard.

   “I’m telling you this so you’ll keep an eye on the children.”

   Haldir shook his head.  “No, I’ll take them to Ada’s.  You may think you’re planning some wickedly clever scheme but these are not characters in one of your bloody books.”  He stared at the whiskey bottle in his hand. “These men are dangerous and they will _not_ bat an eye to carve out a child’s tongue.”

   Bard took a mouthful of liquor and swallowed hard.  He had worried about that. But he’d already told Sigrid he’d planned on not being home during the duration of this quest of his.  That would hopefully have been enough to keep their identities safe.

    “You know I’m right,” Haldir stated.

    “Will . . . Would Celeborn --”

   Haldir relaxed some and waved a hand.  “Ada will happily take them in for as long as you need; you know that.  They both love your children.”

   Bard smiled weakly.  When he’d first met Celeborn and Galadriel, he’d been fully aware of their illustrious status.  But Haldir was his closest friend in the Rangers and the elf had insisted he’d be welcomed. Both elves were nothing like he’d expected and they’d spoiled his children within moments of meeting them.  They’d be safe in Celeborn’s massive holdings. The guards there would treat them as members of the house and protect them as such.

    “You didn’t even think this through fully, did you?” Haldir moaned.

    “Somewhat!”

    “Bloody idiot,” the elf grumbled.  He stomped down the hall and made a few curses and crashing sounds before returning to Bard.  He held a small device in his hand. “Give me your shoe.”

    “What?”

    “ _Shoe.  Now._ ”

    Confused, he complied and watched as Haldir flick open a knife and carve a small slit just between where the sole and rest of the shoe attached.  The tiny device he shoved in, swearing again.

    “Here,” he muttered, dropping it on the floor.

   “And that was?”

   “Tracker so I can find your bloody stupid ass when they catch onto you.”

   Bard stiffened.  “You don’t believe I can do this?”  He stuffed his foot back into his shoe.

    “Oh, no; I believe you can.  But I also believe if you make the smallest mistake you’ll end up dead.”  He fiddled with his phone. “Good. You’re in my kitchen.” 

    “Haldir.”

    “You know, I do have a job.  I don’t have time to shadow you _everywhere_.”

    “I’m not asking you to do that!”  He leaned against the counter and yawned.  Adrenaline had finally faded from his system and he was _exhausted_.  He just wanted a decent night’s sleep in his own bed before he had to go pretend to be someone else for a short while.  “I just wanted this favor. That’s all.”

    “Of the two of us, who had the most awards in sharpshooting?”

    Bard glared at him.  “You did.”

   “Of the two of us, who still works with Federal on information gathering missions?”

    He hated where this was going.  “You,” he sighed.

    “So, until this little escapade of yours is over, I’m your bloody shadow.”  He took a slug of whiskey straight from the bottle. “Bloody idiot,” he hissed.

    “For a friend, you’re quite mean.”

    Haldir’s eyes narrowed.  “If this gets messy, I’m calling in Federal.” 

   “Haldir --”

   “Nope.  That’s my deal breaker.  If it’s clear they’re on to you, I don’t want you dead.”  He sobered. “Bard, I respect what you’re doing; truly. But you don’t need to face a dragon alone.  I can call in Federal and we’ll get you out. Story be damned.”

    “I’m trying to find the truth, not just write a story.”

    His friend smiled.  “I know, that’s the only reason why I haven’t brained you and locked you in my basement until you come to your senses.”  He looked at the clock on the microwave and sighed. “You should head home. I’ll collect the children in the morning.”

    Relieved, Bard nodded.  He shook Haldir’s hand. “Thank you, my friend.”

    The elf slapped him on the back.  “When I inevitably pull you ass from the fire, you owe me big time.”  He patted Bard softer this time. “I’ll be in touch. You’ll know when.”

    “Right.  I’ll see you.”  He headed out into the cold night, and slid behind the wheel of his car.  The drive home was unfortunately short but uneventful. Even with all the uncertainty facing him for the next few days, he fell asleep quickly, dark and dreamless.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OH HAI.
> 
> I WROTE A THING.
> 
> PLEASE ENJOY THE THING.
> 
> YOU CAN YELL AT ME HERE: [My Tumblr](http://snarkymonkeyprime.tumblr.com)


	2. Chapter 2

    The next morning, Bard wondered if it was too late to change everything.  He had a blissful second or two wherein he’d believed all his previous night’s work had been little more than a convoluted dream.  Given that he woke to an empty house with a brief note in Haldir’s familiar scrawl -  _ With Ada now  _ \-- it was all far too real.  

    He took his time that morning, packing two bags for the stay he’d inevitably have at some rundown motel and made certain the rest of the house was locked up and safe.  The last thing he needed was to go through this risk and lose  _ everything  _ in the process.  A few days prior, he’d located a used truck on the cheap and threw his bags behind the bench seat before pulling himself behind the wheel.  He took his standard phone out, and smiled wanly at the image of his children on the lock screen. He’d see them soon; he wouldn’t let this overwhelm him.  With a sigh, he shut off the phone and reached below his seat, pulling out the small, waterproof safe he’d purchased and slid all his documentation inside, locking it.  

    A new ID and a new bank card replaced them and he tucked his wallet away.   _ Might as well get this going, _ he admitted.  The truck coughed to life, the cab shaking as he pressed the gas and shifted.  It was a loud, uncomfortable drive to his next location. He’d arranged to meet  _ Alfrid _ , a member of the the Master’s group, at a small diner well outside town.  

    He found the place easily, though by the looks of it, it had seen better days.  A weak  _ open  _ neon sign buzzed and sputtered as he opened the door.  A tinny bell chittered above him but no one took notice.  Far as he was concerned, that only helped matters. He took a seat at a corner booth and ordered eggs and coffee.  In no time, he nursed a bland cup and poked at a plate of runny eggs. 

_ What the hell am I doing _ ? he asked himself for the zillionth time.  He should be home, waking up in his cozy bed, coffee brewing, ready to write his next article or book.  Not here in a neighborhood he barely knew, waiting for a man he knew nothing about.

    He sighed and sipped, glancing around the diner as he did so.

    This early in the morning, it was fairly empty.  Three rougher looking men sat in the closest booth, arguing over a sports team gone bad.  Behind him, he could hear the whispered words of a man and his wife; or not wife, as the case might have been.  At the counter, an elf sat with a folded newspaper, idly stirring a tea cup.

    The door jingled and Bard looked away, barely holding back a grimace.

    The man who walked in had to be Alfrid.  His dark hair hung about his face, lanky and loose.  He walked with a hunch, as though a rat trapped in a corner.  Even so, there was an arrogance in the lean face and instantly put Bard on edge.

    The man’s piggy eyes landed on him and he grinned, showing stained, crooked teeth.  “So, you’re Girion, eh?”

    Bard sat back and nodded.  “I am.”

    “Percy claims you’re a reliable driver.”  Alfrid sat down without offer and leaned on the table, still grinning.  “We always need  _ reliable _ in my line of work.”

    The sour smell wafting off the man made Bard shift in his seat and he covered the distaste with another swallow of coffee.  “I am. Tell me where to go and what to haul and I’ll do it.”

    “We expect  _ utter _ loyalty, you see.”  Alfrid slid Bard’s plate of eggs close and began eating, using his fingers rather than the fork Bard had cast aside.  Lips flecked in yellow, he went on. “The Master needs to know that his employees will obey without question.”

    “Right.”

    “So, what can you give me that will tell me the Master is in  _ good  _ hands?”  

_ Shit. _  Percy hadn’t said there would be any kind of loyalty stress test.  Bard had nothing but his word and that of his informant, Percy. How the hell was he supposed to do this?   _ I should have listened to Captain Thorin. _ His cell phone burned in his trouser pocket, the secret card already activated and waiting.  He hadn’t let Haldir know where he was going but if the tracker worked like intended, he could be here in no time.

    Alfrid burped and sat back.  “I know. We’ve a job. You complete that, and you’re hired.”

    Bard’s heart resumed beating and he nodded, his palms sweating.  “What is it?”

    “The Master has some . . .  _ special  _ liquor he needs delivered.  No questions. We’ve a warehouse where you can pick up a truck.”  He reached into his jacket and pulled out a wrinkled, yellow scrap of paper.  “This address. You will take the kegs to a location, deliver, return with the last week’s stash of empties.”  From the other pocket he withdrew a phone. “Call the number stored on this phone and you’ll get your location.  Return to the warehouse successful and we’ll consider it a day well done.” 

    Skin crawling, Bard collected the items and tucked them into his own jacket.  “When?”

    “Now, honestly.”  The man dipped his fingers into the eggs again and sucked them off noisily.  “Pleasure, Girion.” He slid out of the booth and crabbed off to the door, the chime a pleasant counter to his odious personage.

    Bard let his head fall back against the booth and breathed deep.   _ Bloody hell this is difficult, _ he admitted.  He gathered himself quickly and finished off his coffee, casting a look of disgust at the remains of his breakfast.  He pulled out his wallet and left a hefty tip fo the wait staff and followed Alfrid’s path out the door to the truck.  

    Back behind the wheel, he retrieved the paper Alfrid had left him.  The warehouse sat on the riverside. Understandable if the Master was shipping product wherever he could.  And, convenient for the odd nuisance now and again. Bard had to wonder how many bodies littered the waves beneath the warehouse’s docks.

    The drive to his new location took far less time than he had hoped.  Before long, he was parking his truck in a rocky lot behind a pressed steel building.  Thankfully, a friendly face awaited him by the gate.

    “Percy,” he breathed, shaking the man’s hand.

    The man looked less than pleased to see Bard.  “You shouldn’t be here,” he muttered. He clapped Bard on the back and urged him around the building.  “Bard, this isn’t worth it.”

    “It is if I can bring the Master down,” he replied, dropping his chin to hopefully hide his words.

    The older man shook his head.  “You’re an idiot.”

    “I’ve heard that once already.”  

    Percy eyed him and stroked his gray, scraggly goatee.  “Should’ve listened.”

_ Probably. _

    While he knew he couldn’t expect Percy to act against the Master in any obvious way, it was still a relief to know  _ someone _ knew him as  _ Bard  _ and not  _ Girion _ in the midst of all this.

   The warehouse appeared to be fairly busy with trucks driving in an out of the huge chain-link gate.  Forklifts trundled from one building to another, crates perched atop their metal tongues. It all  _ looked  _ legitimate.  But Bard wondered just what hid inside the crates and barrels that shifted around them.

_ I wonder if just one of these would be enough for Thorin _ ?  Not likely.  Bard knew enough about criminals and the law to realize that the Master would feign ignorance of what he  _ shipped _ .  Or place the blame squarely on a lackey that would suddenly show up floating in the Long Lake.  No, one or two barrels wouldn’t be enough to topple the Master. Bard needed the proof that he’d hand a hand in Oropher’s disappearance.  It would shatter whatever foundation held him above the law for so long.

    “You can’t make me!”

    Bard jerked to a stop, Percy beside him.  Not far from them, a young man tussled with a group of others, clearly desperate to get away.  They pinned his arms but he writhed between them, one foot placed against the tailgate of the truck they struggled to haul him into.

   “What’s going on?” Bard asked.

   “The demon will kill us all!” the man shrieked, breaking free.  He bolted, racing across the pavement when a crack shattered the morning.  The man’s head jerked back in a spray of red and he collapsed in a broken heap.

   Not thinking, Bard ran for the body, falling to his knees beside the man.  Sightless brown eyes stared upward, the bullet hole an ugly, ragged tear in his forehead.  Blood and brain spattered the pavement and Bard looked around, stupefied. 

    A glint of light.  He narrowed his eyes, trying to see something but the roof was too far away.  Though he could swear he saw movement. 

    “Let it go, lad,” Percy said, tugging on Bard’s shoulder.  He followed the motion, stumbling to his feet. “Just one more for the crows.”

    “What?” he turned on Percy.  “What in the bloody hell was that?”

    Percy looked older than he ever had.  “I wish I knew, lad. Something . . .” he sighed.  “It started happening a few months ago. Men going missing.  We’d find them a day or two later looking like that,” he said, pointing to the body the other men were now collecting.  “No notes or anything. Never more than one now and again.” He rubbed his face. “Like he said, the demon will get us all.”

   Bard pointed toward the building he’d been watching.  “I saw movement. A sniper. A  _ person. _ ”  He hissed at Percy, “Is this the Master’s method of continued employment?”

    “Doubtful, lad.  I don’t think he’s behind this but the man  _ is  _ sadistic,”

    “Shit,” he muttered.  He’d heard nothing of this.  How in the hell did they keep it off Thorin’s radar?

_ Because those that work here don’t work with the police. _ Still, if it had been happening for a while, one would think it reached Thorin at least once.  He breathed in, staring down at the pool of blackened blood and bits of bone.  _ He’ll hear about it now, _ he thought, thinking of his  _ update _ to come.

    Percy’s hand shook slightly as he gripped Bard by the bicep.  “I warned you, lad.” Another head shake. “We can’t leave because the Master will kill us.  But,” he gestured weakly, “we can’t very well stay if this is our fate. We’re damned, Bard. Every last one of us.”

    “The police, Percy --”

    Percy glowered.  “The police are in his  _ pocket. _ ”  

    It would explain why the news never filtered anywhere.  No precinct would want the place inspected if they were also padding their pockets with graft.  So which precinct? He trusted Thorin. And Thorin would never have allowed such deception to continue.  Unless the men who perpetuated it were more clever than Thorin would have expected.

    “This wasn’t a smart idea of yours.”  Percy went quiet as he lead Bard toward the vacant delivery trucks.  He handed over a set of keys to Bard and murmured luck before he turned to go.  

    Bard moved toward the driver’s door but halted when a heavy, sweaty bulk swung before him.

    “So, you’re  _ Girion _ ?”

    All his research had described the Master as an unpleasant man; in the flesh he appeared only more so.  At one time, he’d seemed to be a decent, if sloppy, man but the years of excess had done him a disservice.  His waistcoat barely held back his drooping stomach and he was desperately hiding a balding head with what scrap of hair remained.

    Bard held out a hand, suppressing a shudder at the moist heat that swallowed his own.  

    “Aye,” he murmured.

    Dark eyes followed him.  “I’ve not heard that name for many a year.  Grandfather’s name?”

    Warning bells thrummed in his ears.  It was an older name but not necessarily rare.  Still, he hoped it didn’t mean the Master would remember him in any way.  “Great-great grandad, actually,” he admitted.

    The Master wrenched on Bard’s arm, yanking him forward.  “If I’ve found you’re deceiving me, Girion, they won’t have enough left of you to fill a sponge.”  His sour breath flashed over Bard’s ear. “If I didn’t have need of more hands, I’d’ve never offered this.”  He gripped Bard’s arm until he winced. “I’ll be watching you.”

    As he swung away, Alfrid scurrying behind him as a detestable shadow, Bard’s hand clenched.

_ And I’ll be watching  _ you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HAI
> 
> [I WRITE OTHER STUFF](snarkymonkeyprime.tumblr.com)


End file.
